


Spuffy vs Evil Dead

by sunalso



Series: Versus-verse [1]
Category: Ash vs Evil Dead (TV), Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6487210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood, fluff, more blood, and the True Meaning of Christmas- not necessarily in that order. </p><p>Written for the Holiday Challenge 2015 at Elysian Fields. Very Spuffy with all the related tropes-including gratuitous Angel bashing- you've been warned. Set Christmas 2015. Very post series for BtVS and not following canon for Ash vs Evil Dead. Can be read if you're a BtVS fan without having watched AvED, but no where near as fun. The other way around probably wouldn't work. </p><p>Beta'd by Behind Blue Eyes. I poked at it some with a stick afterwards so any errors are mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Christmas Eve, People!

Evil moved through the woods.  It drifted and wove in and out amongst the thickets of twisted and withered trees and brambles. It rushed between the weeds, over and through fallen logs and  slithered along the thick carpet of dead leaves blanketing the forest floor. Evil had one purpose as it headed towards the lights: the people and their blood.  Reaching the edge of the woods, Evil stopped and lurked, taking in its newest find.

 

The diner’s lights shone brightly in the night. Merry multicolored bulbs of blue, green and red lined every available space, while cheery carols spilled out into the night with every opening of the diner’s door.   

 

Satisfied with its new home, Evil hunted for a way inside. Taking advantage when one of the cooks stepped outside to empty the trash, it slipped through the backdoor that’d been left propped open. As Evil entered into the kitchen of the bustling greasy-spoon, a string of Christmas lights popped, showering sparks. Startled, the cook jumped back, cursing at the new holes that now littered his grungy wife-beater. At the entrance the open sign in the window sputtered and blinked on and off several times before settling back to its normal neon flare.

 

****

 

Whitesnake was blaring on the radio, but only because Buffy had turned it up to annoy present company. She didn’t even particularly like the song.  It was something about wolves and moonlight and body heat.  She wasn’t really paying attention, being too busy watching the muscle in Spike’s jaw tick with each of David Coverdale’s high pitch wails.   Although they were pros at roadtripping, she still completely ignored etiquette, even if this was Spike’s cherry, fully-loaded Mustang and he was driving. She was playing Casey Kasem here, thank you very much.  Especially after the that one miserable month of nothing but punk, courtesies of Spike. The misery she’d endured had forced Buffy to lay down the law.  Of course, even now–years later– she still couldn’t resist using her allotted radio dial control time to annoy Spike as much as possible.

 

“We could listen to Adele’s new album instead,” she said, shaking her iPhone at him.

 

“Again?” he whined.

 

“You know you like it, everyone likes, it is physically impossible not to like it. You were singing along to ‘Hello’ yesterday.” She pouted at him, since usually that was the ticket to getting her way.

 

“That one’s not so bad. But it makes me think too bloody much.” His hands, wrapped around  the steering wheel and gearshift, tightened, giving his knuckles a resemblance to whitecaps on a stormy sea.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed quietly. They both sat in silence as Whitesnake gave way to Kansas. She couldn’t help but remember that pivotal phone call from more than a decade ago. It had changed everything, and opened up the path that’d led to them crisscrossing the country together. They headed wherever the new Council felt they were most needed.  She reached out, wrapping her left hand around the wrist of his right as it rested on the shifter. Spike lifted his hand, turning it so their fingers could intertwine. Squeezing slightly, he smiled at her. Buffy smiled back and turned her attention to the world outside their little bubble, watching as the snow covered trees whipped by on either side of the two-lane highway.

 

“Dinnertime, pet?” he asked. Before she could speak, her stomach gave a loud growl.  Spike chuckled: “I’ll take that as a yes. It’s the Northeast so there’s got to be a place with the world’s best pie, or coffee, somewhere around here. Even though I topped off before we left the motel with a couple pints of red, something warm to drink right about now sounds heavenly.”

 

“Diner food! I could so totally go for meatloaf right now.” Her eyes slid closed at the imagined pleasure of comfort food. Spike chuckled, bringing her hand to his mouth for a quick kiss before he let go to downshift around a corner.

 

“So, we still thinking zombies?” he asked, back to business.

 

“God, I hope not.” Fighting zombies was one of her least favorite things. “Well, on the bright side, at least it’s winter and they shouldn’t be all stinky like that gag-a-riffic summer in Georgia.”

 

“That was bloody unpleasant.” He agreed, grimacing as he remembered the unholy reek of dozens of rotting corpses in the oppressive humidity.  Even though he didn’t need to breathe, the stench had coated his tongue and he’d tasted the filthy buggers for weeks. 

 

Buffy slid her gaze over to him. “Not to mention every time we have to deal with zombies you spend a week in an existential crisis.”

 

Spike frowned.  “Do not,” he huffed.

 

“Do to.” She leaned back in her seat, hand thrown dramatically to her forehead like a fainting southern belle. “Buffy, what separates me from those things? How am I any bloody different?”  She was doing a horrible impression of his accent.

 

He rolled his eyes. “Way I feature it we always end up having a rather good time as you show me exactly how I’m different.”

 

She smiled, he was right, not that she’d risk telling him that. Post zombie apocalypse sex was always amazing. It was also one of the few times they were able to spend days together while completely ignoring the outside world.

 

“Maybe even if you’re over it, you could still pretend it bothers you?” She asked hopefully.

 

Spike chuckled at her, giving her that devilish grin that never failed to make her toes curl. “You’re welcome to show me anytime you want, luv.”

 

Their Mustang crested a hill and off in the distance, to their left, were the lights of a small town. Just ahead, on the right, was a tacky beacon in the dark. Rising out of the snow was a brightly lit sign spelling out ‘Jack’s Diner,’ complete with a big arrow pointing to the building.

 

“Perfect!” Buffy exclaimed. “So which is it? Coffee or pie?”

 

Squinting, Spike could just make out the hand painted ‘World’s Best Pie!’ sign. “Looks like pie, so you win this time,” Spike sighed in defeat.  They had an ongoing competition, with the loser owing the winner a favor at some later date. Buffy pulled out the notebook tucked in the side pocket and triumphantly put a tick mark under ‘pie.’  Coffee was still ahead five points, but she saw a chance to catch up.

 

Like usual, Spike parked ”his baby” in the farthest corner of the gravel lot in an attempt to avoid door dings or pretty much anyone coming within a five-mile radius of _her_. At first Buffy had bitched about having to hike a half mile to wherever they were going and had secretly worried that he cared more about the car than her. That was water under the bridge now. The Mustang felt like home and had saved them more times than she cared to remember. Over the years she’d grown rather attached to _her_ and even agreed with most of Spike’s gripping about American drivers and ‘how the lot of them drove and parked like they had their head up their arses.’  

 

Walking towards the bright entrance, Spike wrapped his arm around her waist as he quickly fired up a smoke. She didn’t let him light up in the car. Not that she had to worry about the health effects of secondhand smoke since the claim several years back, but she refused to go everywhere smelling like an ashtray.  He grudgingly complied, but the end result was that he lit up the instant they got anywhere. Giving him a chance to inhale as much nicotine as possible, they walked slowly, admiring the twinkling Christmas lights. As they reached the door, he flicked the butt into the snow and he completely ignored her indignant look. Littering was one of the few sins left to him, so he took advantage when he could, even if Buffy tried to make him feel at least a little bit guilty over it

 

The tiny silver bell above the door announced their arrival as they entered the diner.  The inside twinkled with dozens of strands of blinking lights that showcased the festiveness of mounds of tinsel, plastic Santas, wooden nutcrackers, and a star-topped tree.  All this Christmas just added a layer holiday theme to the already 50’s décor of classic cars. There was an old jukebox, lots of chrome, and classic gas pumps set in between each Formica and red leather booth.  Yet, out of everything, Buffy’s attention was gripped by something else. Her eyes were drawn to the multitude of pies lazily circling inside a glass display case. Several more lined the counter, each with its own silver pie server just waiting to dish out all that mouth-watering goodness.     

 

The waitress that greeted them was dressed in red with a bright white apron and a Santa hat on her head. “Merry Christmas!  Welcome to Jack’s Diner! Just the two of you tonight?”

 

“Merry Christmas, luv. You’re right, table for two.” Spike jerked his thumb towards the far corner of the dinner. “We’ll take the back booth if that’s okay?”

 

“S-s-ure,” the waitress stammered.  Buffy sighed, and told herself not to do something possessive, like French kiss her vampire senseless in the middle of this podunk place. Spike tended to gather female attention, and while it didn’t threaten her, it did make her want to mark her territory. Spike wasn’t immune to that feeling either. Some loser had hit on her when they’d been at a bar last night and Spike had bitten the hell out of her when they’d gotten back to the motel. She still had a scarf on to hide the fading bruise and fang marks. At least the green wrap didn’t look too weird since it was winter.

 

Buffy went first, walking behind the waitress as she led them to the table. A few steps behind her Spike slipped his hand into the pocket of his duster, running a finger over the carefully wrapped box there. He should ask her now- before they got all caught up in the potential zombie situation. There was no reason to think she’d say no, the claim was much more permanent than a marriage, but he was still nervous. If he bollixed up this proposal he’d never hear the end of it.

 

When they reached the booth Buffy sat down on the bench facing the door, sliding over so that Spike could join her. The waitress looked at them funny, but they didn’t care. It was their usual arrangement, both feeling safer facing the entrance. “I’ll be back with some water and menus,” the waitress said and walked off with a shrug.

 

Buffy took her iPhone out of her pocket. It was a luxury, but she loved it.  Spike couldn’t care less, he always bought the cheapest flip phone he could find and used it till it fell apart. Setting the phone down on the table between them Buffy pulled up her Facebook account. She scrolled through, looking for photos of friends and family.

 

“There’s Willow!”  Buffy excitedly pointed to the picture of her once best friend.  The witch had cut her hair into a classic bob style, and she looked stunning in an emerald green party dress. Her arm was wrapped around another woman as they posed in front of a Christmas tree. 

 

“Who’s the blonde bint?” he asked.

 

“Latest girlfriend, I think.”

 

“She’s got a new one every week, I can’t keep up with them,” Spike groused.

 

Buffy ran a finger over her the picture of her friend’s smiling face. “That could be me,” she said sadly.

 

“You with a new girl all the time?” Spike said teasingly. “Or you being Willow’s flavor of the week?”

 

“Neither!” She hit him lightly on the shoulder. “I mean, I could be Willow- always looking for that person I lost.”  Spike’s arm, which had been resting behind her along the top of the booth, came down to wrap around her. Her head tilted to rest on his shoulder and she thanked whoever was listening for every moment she had with him.

 

The waitress came back and set down two glasses of water. Spike waved off the menus. “I’ll have a cup of black coffee and two slices of pumpkin pie, and she,” he gave Buffy a squeeze, “will have the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans, along with a slice of coconut cream for dessert. Bring her a diet coke as well.” The waitress snapped her order pad closed, gave them another look of faux cheerfulness, and headed toward the kitchen.

 

“Y’know, people think the worst when you do that,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes.

 

“They can think what they want. You’ve been fantasizing about meatloaf for hours. And the rest is what you always get.”

 

“Have I gotten that predictable? What if I wanted carrots? Or corn on the cob?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“Do you?”

 

“No, but that’s not the point.”

 

He kissed the end of her nose. “You’re cute when you’re being self-righteous, kitten.”  

 

The door to the diner clanging open distracted them.  A tall middle aged man walked in with a brunette woman and a young man with a dark head of hair that stuck nearly straight up. A different waitress greeted them in the same chipper manner and led them to a table on the opposite side of the restaurant. Buffy and Spike both instantly dismissed them as harmless and returned to looking through Buffy’s Facebook account. There was a picture of Xander’s new kid, and one of Dawn on a tropical beach with a group of friends.

 

“Our turn!” Buffy announced, picking up the phone and turning the camera on.

 

“Really?” he asked, raising his scarred eyebrow.

 

“Really, really. You’re lucky I don’t have a pair of reindeer antlers for you to wear. Now smile.” She put an arm around his neck and leaned her head against his, then waited for him to stop rolling his eyes and actually smile. The pic turned out fine, and she quickly uploaded it along with a happy holiday message, since they might be too busy tomorrow to worry about it.

 

Their food arrived and they both tucked in.

 

“How’s the pie?” she asked after several bites.

 

“Not bad at all, not quite the world’s best, but not bad.”

 

“Ditto for the meatloaf. It’s not Mom’s, but it’s good.” Her stomach did a little flip. She always missed her mother more than normal around the holidays. For the millionth time she wished she had a grave to visit, but like everything else in Sunnydale, her mom’s final resting place was at the bottom of a giant crater. Even though her loss had happened years ago, it still hurt.

 

“I miss her too,” Spike said from beside her, noticing the turn her thoughts had taken. “Hell of a lady, and she could make a mean cup of hot cocoa.” She patted his knee in thanks, while continuing to work on her dinner. They both knew that they needed to get back on the road and get as close to their destination before sunrise.

 

Suddenly there was a loud clattering noise from the back of the restaurant and Buffy froze with a bite halfway to her mouth. The lights blinked out, plunging the room into darkness and cutting off the Christmas music from the jukebox.

 

“I’m sure it’ll be back on in just a moment, if everyone could please just stay calm.” One of the waitresses announced over the other patron’s steadily growing complaints, her voice sounding more worried than her words. “Sometimes this happens in the winter, snow can build up the powerlines.”

 

Beside her Buffy could hear Spike sniff the air. “Blood,” he whispered.

 

A shadow slipped out of the kitchen, moving silently up behind the waitress. Buffy was just about to call a warning, but the words turned into a yelp as the lights flicked back on.

 

A thing that had once been one of the cooks was in the midst of reaching for the waitress. The handle of a large kitchen knife jutted from his eye socket. The remaining eye skin was ghastly pale. The waitress spun around and screamed. The cook grabbed her by the throat, lifted her, and slammed her down onto the counter. A depraved laugh echoed through blue lips.

 

While pinning the struggling waitress, the cook grabbed a metal pie server from the counter. He raised it high over his head then impaled it into her chest. He yanked it out and bright red blood pumped up into the air, showering him, the waitress, and the counter. The cook brought the server back down again, stabbing it into her side with a sickening, squelching sound.  When he let go and her body slid off the counter and slumped to the floor.   

 

Buffy found herself dragged over the back of the booth, ending up squished against Spike in the space between the bench seat and the wall. Their eyes met and she mouthed: “What the hell was that?” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

 

The noise in the diner went from grumbling complaints to shrill cries of fear.  All the while, the overhead fluorescent lights strobed, giving the diner a look of a cross between a disco and a really bad horror movie.   

 

A raspy male voice rose above the chaos: “What the fuck? It’s goddamn Christmas Eve, people!”


	2. Merry Christmas to Us

The soles of her stylish yet affordable shoes were sticking to the floor. Buffy knew that was maybe not the most normal thing to be worried about, especially after watching a girl get brutally murdered, but when you’d been the Slayer as long as she had, one tended to shrug off the obvious and compartmentalize.  She’d deal with freaky monster thing in a moment, right after dealing with being superglued to the floor.  Also it was gross. Damn…did no one ever bother cleaning back here? Seriously, cleaning 101, just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not dirty.  It was that whole tree falling, make a sound thing.  It was bad enough they were hiding behind the booth without also having to deal with geological layers of unspecified gunk.

“I’m gonna get a look,” Spike whispered.  He grimaced as he tried to move his feet and found his boots mired in the mess as well. Giving up on looking around the side of the bench, he slowly inched his way towards the top, continuing until he could just see over the back. His eyes shifted quickly left and right before he dropped back down by her side.   

 

“Creepy bugger’s still standing there, pretty much blocking the bloody exit. Means we still got more than a dozen victims-in-waiting hiding under the tables with the roaches,” Spike sighed in frustration while running a hand over his slicked back hair.

 

“Guess we found our zombie problem,” Buffy said, pursing her lips. Something was way off, laughing and the shambling dead were usually not all that mixy.

 

Spike snorted, “Yeah, Merry Christmas to us, eh pet?”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t suppress a grin. It just wouldn’t be the holidays if they weren’t facing some world ending demonic threat.   Most likely thinking the same thing, Spike returned her grin and rested his forehead against hers.

 

She would have liked the rest of the world to disappear for a while, but instead the same loud voice from earlier spoke up. “You’ve got to be shitting me. None of y’all brought any weapons in? Pablo, you’re supposed to be in charge of keeping us armed.”

 

“It’s a Diner, on Christmas Eve, I didn’t think there’d be any problems.” Someone, who was probably this Pablo guy, answered back.

 

“That’s right, you didn’t think. Now a bunch of people are going to be having very unhappy holidays.”

 

“Sounds like they might know what’s up, should we risk asking?” Spike jerked his head to towards the voices.

 

The mention of weapons had her missing her Scythe, which was currently locked safely in the trunk of the Mustang. Like the unknown Pablo, she’d been lulled into a sense of safety by the sheer perfusion of Christmas decorations and the promises of pie. She would have stamped her foot in frustration, well, if the floor was willing to give her foot back to do so. 

 

_Maybe the grease was possessed?_

_“_ It’s a might better than hiding out and waiting for that dead wanker to decide who it’s carving up next. We’ll take it out if it comes runnin’,” Spike whispered in Buffy’s ear and waited for her to nod before adding, “Count of three then.”

 

“One,” she started, “Two-“ They stood up and the first thing Buffy did was reclaim her iphone off the table and shove it into her pocket. “Priorities,” she said, shrugging as Spike narrowed his eyes at her.

 

“Get some,” he muttered, dodging Buffy’s halfhearted attempt to elbow him in the ribs. He raised his voice: “Oi, Mate! Do you know what this blighter is?”

 

On cue, the thing in question twisted its head around to look in their direction. Just its head. The sound of popping joints and bones was the only sound heard from the beast.

 

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Oh, Eww.”

 

 “They’re called deadites.”  The voice they’d been hearing belonged to the middle aged guy who’d come into the diner after them.

 

“Lovely,” Buffy said, “Anything special you have to do to kill ‘em?” With her luck you’d probably needed a special knife coated in the ground up kidneys of some rare Chinese hamsters in order to take them down. What she wouldn’t give for a rocket launcher right about now.

 

“It’s nice and simple…gotta cut the head off,” The guy replied.

 

“Decapitation! Easy!” Buffy brightened at the prospect, at least something was looking up.

 

 “Can be,” he agreed. “Usually…I’d have a chainsaw, but _somebody_ wasn’t thinking.” The guy shot a glare at the younger man with him before turning back to them. “So who are you guys? You seem strangely okay with all this shit.”

 

The deadite in the middle of the diner stood wavering on its feet, as if it couldn’t decide which group to attack first. 

 

“I’m Buffy and this is Spike. It’s nice to meet you.” She leaned sideways to give the stranger a polite smile around the ghoulish creature that was currently gnashing its teeth in her direction. 

 

“Buffy and Spike? Did you two loose a bet?”

 

“Watch it, mate,” Spike growled, “You’re going to want us helping you with this thing. Who are you, anyway?”

 

“I’m Ash, and this here is Kelly and Pablo.” He jerked his left thumb towards to two people with him. They waved. Buffy waved back, smiling. Spike rolled his eyes. “So you two got any weapons?” Ash asked.

 

Spike looked at The Slayer, who pulled a stake out from under her jacket. He reached in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade.  “Yeah, we got a knife and a stake.”

 

Ash’s forehead creased. “A steak? Like a porterhouse? Because meat products are not going to be a big help right now.”

 

“No,” Buffy sighed, holding up the wooden implement. “A stake as in a wooden pointy thing?” She mimed plunging into Spike’s chest, until she caught sight of his unamused look. “Uh, sorry.”

 

“You owe me now Summers,” Spike whispered into her ear, letting her know exactly how she was going to be paying for her little faux pas. It made her shiver, in a good way.

 

“That’s weird, why do you carry a stake around? Are you worried you’re going to find an unsecured tarp?”  Though he was directing his questions to them, Ash had not taken his eyes of the deadite,  who was now snarling in his direction.

 

“I’m a Slayer.” She said, sighing again at Ash’s blank look. “A vampire Slayer.”

 

“Okay…guess that makes sense, with you not being all freaked out an’ all.  Still never heard of a Slayer.”  Ash smirked “So, it’s Buffy the vampire Slayer and her sidekick Spike.”

 

Buffy laughed, while Spike fumed silently next to her.

 

She had a quip already to go, when out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, a guy in a suit trying to be stealthy and head to the front door.   “Wait, don’t!” She cried, but it was too late.

 

The deadite moved faster than she realized it could.  It sprinted out from behind the counter to grab the man and send him crashing into the pie display case. The glass shattered. Then the deadite hauled the guy back out by the collar of his jacket. Fragments of glass stuck out of the man’s face and torso, and he was sobbing pitifully.

 

Reaching into the shattered case, the deadite grabbed a large shard of glass that was sticking out of the coconut cream pie. It held the piece up in front of its face. A long tongue snaked out to lick at the filling. Then with a gleeful smile it grabbed the sobbing man’s cheeks with its free hand, forcing his mouth open. With a sudden jerk the deadite jabbed the shard of pie covered glass into the man’s mouth. The force of the blow carried out the back of the man’s neck. Instantly dead, the body landed with a thud on the floor.

 

Buffy stared, opened mouthed.  But the shock didn’t last long before she  leapt over the back of the bench, sticky shoes and all.   Spike didn’t make a moves to stop her, he knew she was in full Slayer mode and as soon as he dislodged his boots out of muck he was right behind her.   

 

“What are you doing?” Ash hissed at them.

 

“I’m a Slayer, I slay things. I’m going to slay this . . . thing.”  She gripped the stake tight, advancing on the deadite.

 

It hissed at her. “We know who you are little girl, and what you do.”

 

“Then you know you’re going to die.” Buffy wasn’t afraid. Whatever this thing was it couldn’t be any worse than the legions of baddies she’d taken out during her life or lives, as the case may be.

 

It cackled at her. “Pretty little Slayer, I thought you liked the things that go bump in the night.” The deadite blew a squishy kiss at her. “Isn’t that why you fu--” The words died in a gurgle as Buffy hurled the stake, impaling the thing’s throat. In a flash she was across the room, a solid kick sending it slamming against the wall. The deadite fell to its knees, blood pouring from its open mouth. A second kick sent it crashing to its back. She leapt on to the monstrosity to keep it pinned, yelling for Spike.

 

Spike joined in on the fray by slamming a booted foot into  the thing’s head to help hold it down. Buffy yanked out the stake, leaving a gaping hole. Spike looked at the knife in his hands, it was on the small side for the job.

 

“Here,” Buffy grunted, seeing the problem. She reached one hand up and yanked the kitchen knife from the deadite’s eye and handed it to Spike. Shrugging he made short work of cutting through the thing’s neck. The body went limp and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Watch out!” Kelly cried from behind them. They turned in unison to see the red clad waitress, eyes now white, poised and ready to strike.

 

She, well now it, held a knife high, lips pulled back in a macabre grin. Spike threw himself in front of Buffy as the waitress brought a knife down. The blade sank deep in his shoulder, making him hiss in pain as it almost struck bone before he fell to the ground, hard.  Spike was back on his feet in an instant, charging  the waitress. In a surprising show of strength, the girl sent him crashing into the wall with a ferocious backhand.  Buffy stood up, with the now bloody stake clutched in her hand.

 

Buffy didn’t get a chance to retaliate as Ash was already there. He smacked the thing with his right hand, which Buffy could see now was fake. Was it made out of wood? Who the hell had a wooden hand?

 

While the creature was reeling from the blow, Ash  pulled the pie server out of her chest and brought it around, going straight for its neck.   Instantly a fountain of blood sprayed out, hitting Buffy square in the chest, creating a macabre Rorschach blot, before she could duck out of the way.

 

Ash kept hacking until the waitress’ head completely separated from her body and he was left holding it by the hair.  Ash nodded at a stunned Buffy, then tossed the head behind him. Pablo and Kelly had to scramble to keep from being hit.

 

“Thanks, I think.,” Buffy said, looking down at her blood drenched coat and jeans.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Ash beamed at her, “I’m always glad to help a comrade in the fight against evil!”

 

Spike walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You okay, luv?”

 

“I think so- what about you?” Buffy turned, and gasped at the knife still lodged in his shoulder.

 

“Man, how in the hell are you still walking around?” Pablo asked, coming to stand next to Ash. Kelly trailed behind him.

 

“Long story,” Spike said between gritted teeth. “Can you get it out?” he asked Buffy, “I tried and can’t do it my bleedin’ self.”

 

She started to reach for the handle when a garbled moan interrupted her.  The man with the suit and the piece of glass still obscenely longed in his mouth was stumbling to his feet. Once standing upright he turned and hissed at them, black blood pouring down his chin. Buffy grabbed the knife handle jutting from Spike’s shoulder, pulling it out and whirling to face the new threat.  Glass-face gurgled one more time, then climbed quickly up the wall like a grotesque roach, scuttling across the ceiling to drop down in front of the kitchen doors and disappeared through them, leaving a stunned Slayer and vampire to turn towards Ash and his friends.

 

She grabbed the older man’s arm in a crushing grip. “We need to talk.”

 

“We need to get these people out of here,” Spike interjected, indicating the other survivors in the room.

 

Buffy looked around at their terrified faces.  “Right, rescue first, explanations later.”

 

“There might be a small problem with that,” Kelly said. She was attempting to pry Buffy’s fingers off Ash. “There was probably more than one person working in the kitchen. If they went out the back door they could attack while we’re in the parking lot.” She threw up her hands, not having been able to budge the Slayer.

 

“Girl eats her Wheaties,” Ash said, trying not to show the pain he felt from Buffy’s grip.  “We lead these people out there it could be to their doom. Also, you should know that the deadites can disguise themselves as human. You won’t know the difference until it’s too late, unless you’re me.”

 

Buffy gave him an unimpressed look. She turned to Spike and tapped her nose.

He shook his head “If they’re injured badly enough I can tell the blood smells off, otherwise, no. Too new, maybe.”

 

“We could give everyone a choice,” Pablo said, “Ask ‘em if they want to die in here or out there.”

 

The power chose that minute to come all the way back on and stay on. Christmas lights started blinking and Jingle Bell Rock blared from the speakers. They all looked around, dazzled.

 

Spike leaned against the tinsel clad counter. Behind him, he heard a snapping sound.  Frowning he turned to look. A decorative nutcracker was looking back at him and it blinked.  

 

“Bloody Hell!” Spike jumped back, and his noticed that all around the room a multitude of nutcrackers were stepping off their bases and brandishing their weapons. “Slayer!” He yelled.

 

“I’m going to crack you….like a nut!”  The closest one to Spike squeaked in a high pitched voice. Then with a tiny roar launched itself at his chest, wooden pike held high.


	3. Nutcrackers, Sweet!

The world stuttered into slow motion.  The possessed nutcracker’s wooden lance was headed right for her vampire’s heart, and like some bad dream, Buffy couldn’t move fast enough to reach him before...  From behind her there was a _whoosh_ , and she turned just in time to watch a plastic Santa whizzing past her nose. Wide eyed she followed its flight as it smashed into the leaping nutcracker, knocking it to the floor and away from Spike.

In an instant, everything returned to full speed. She screamed her frustration and marched to where the nutcracker was trying to stand back up. Despite its size and position, it snarled up at her, baring a row of sharp teeth.  That was it. Buffy slammed her kitten heeled ankle boot into the animated nutcracker, making a satisfying crunching sound.

“Stop-trying-to-kill-my-boyfriend!” Each word was punctuated with a stomp, until the nutcracker was nothing but a bloody slick on the linoleum.

With the nutcracker, well, cracked, Buffy looked in the direction where the in-flight Santa had come from.  Ash gave her a salute and she mouthed her heartfelt thanks.   

All around them the dining room had descended into chaos. _Jingle Bell Rock_ blared from the jukebox at a decibel level usually associated with a rocket launch.  A dozen or so comrades of the now smashed decoration were launching attacks, turning the restaurant into a war zone rivaled only by that of Gulliver in the land of Lilliput.

Tiny swords and spears stabbed anyone and everyone in reach.  No ankle or foot was safe.  But the wooden soldiers not only went low, but high as well.  Buffy was sure she saw two of them drowning an old man in his soup. As she rushed over to save the man from a certain death by chicken noodle, a screaming woman cut her off.   Buffy noticed that a particularly toothy nutcracker had its wooden hands tangled in her hair.  Buffy tried to grab the nutcracker, but the panicked woman was twisting madly, trying to dislodge her attacker as the wooden soldier swung blindly, aiming to hit her neck.  Hysterical, the shrilling woman spun into the edge of a table just as her tiny attacker got the upper wooden hand and lodged its lance deep into her ear canal.

Mid jerk the woman went ramrod straight and fell backwards, taking the tiny killer with her. Once they landed, the tiny assassin was partially trapped under the dead body. It tried squirming out from underneath her arm, screaming with the fury of a banshee.  Spike lent a hand and yanked the thing free before pitching it as hard as he could against the wall. With a wet pop it exploded, the remaining pieces oozing towards the floor.

Buffy and Spike shared a mutual look of ‘this is insane’, before heading back into the fray and taking out every wooden warriors in their paths, grabbing them off of people’s backs, ankles, and faces. One tricky bastard managed to sink its tiny but very sharp teeth into Buffy’s thumb before she smashed it into oblivion against a Formica topped table. On the other side of the restaurant, Ash and his friends were also dispatching the nutcrackers as quickly as they could.

The pests were soon nearly history, Ash nabbed the last one by the leg and shook it.  “Looks like I’m a tougher nut than you thought!”  With a grin he spiked the remaining nutcracker onto the floor.

Buffy pouted. “Usually I’m the one making with the quips,” she said to Spike.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’m sure the next time we’re attacked by sodden’ Christmas decorations you’ll be Johnny-on-the-spot with the one-liners.”

He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as she glared at him.  “Don’t start with me, you…you…”

She was interrupted as the rest of the patrons decided that now was the best time to make a mad rush for the exit. Children were swept into parent’s arms, the elderly were shouldered along, and the dead were left were they’d fallen.

As their group assessed the damage, they heard the roaring of engines and the squealing of tires as the parking lot emptied. In less than five minutes it was nearly deserted, all except for Spike’s prize girl and an old and hideously piss-yellow Oldsmobile. 

“Weapons?” Buffy knew their night wasn’t over until they’d cleaned out the diner of any and all remaining deadites. Hesitantly the five walked outside into the freezing night air.

Despite the carnage inside the once cheery diner, the night remained blissfully silent as a cold wind blew wisps of snow around their ankles.

In sync, Buffy and Spike headed over to the completely untouched Mustang, their gazes darting around, searching for any more threats that could be lurking in the night. Spike smirked, wondering if he was going to get another ‘I told you so’ from the Slayer over just how far away he’d parked.  This was short lived as he returned his focus on the trees looking for any movement. Then going a step further and not just trusting his eyes, he inhaled deeply several times to make sure it was only the five of them.   

“I think we’re clear,” Buffy said from beside him.   

Suddenly Spike found himself with an armful of sobbing Slayer. She pushed him back against the car, her mouth devouring his. Desperate hands clutched at him, and she didn’t stop until she needed to come up for air.

“I almost watched you dust, you idiot.” She collapsed against him. Spike wrapped an arm around her and used the other to bring the hem of his shirt up to try and dry her tears before they froze in the night air.

“Ah pet, I’m a little harder to get rid of than that.” He buried his nose in her hair, holding her tight.

“Love you,” she whispered into his chest.

“Love you,” he said back, feeling her face break into a smile against him. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, another on her nose as she tilted her face up to him, a third . . .

“Hey!” Ash’s raised voice echoed across the parking lot. “Are you two just going to stand there and make-out all night, or are you going help put these things in the ground?”

Reluctantly they stepped apart.   Spike reached into his pocket for the Mustang’s key, unlocking the truck to reveal their weapons.  Buffy reached in and pulled out her the Scythe. It felt like it nearly jumped into her hand, as much a part of her as her own heartbeat. 

Spike reached past her to grab his favorite sword.  With flourish he slipped it from its scabbard, hoisting the heavy blade to rest against his shoulder.  Now armed, Spike relocked the car and together they headed back over to the rest of the group.

“Is that a sword?” Ash asked, eyeing Spike’s weapon of choice.

 

“Is that a chainsaw?” Spike countered, eyebrow raised.

 

“Yup.” Ash raised his chainsaw equipped right arm. “This lil’ bute has saved my life more times than I can count. Can take a head off a deadite in five second flat. Now this here…” Ash reached over his shoulder and pulled out a shotgun. “Is my boomstick.” Ash watched Buffy and Spike exchanging glances.  “Now what was that look for?”

 

“It’s just most things we face aren’t really, well, guns are…” Buffy started.

 

“Bloody useless,” Spike supplied.

 

“Yeah, they’re more a stake to the heart or the slice and dice type of evil,” Buffy added.

 

“You take off a limb,” Ash mimicked picking up the gun and firing. “You slow something down. Close enough and this’ll blow the head clean off. Tell ‘em Pablo.”

 

The younger man nodded. “El Jefe has saved my life several times with it. The man knows what he’s talking about.”

 

“Well okay, ‘nuff about tools of the trade, yeah?  ‘M more interested in here ‘bout what the bloody hell is going on here.” Spike eyed Ash as he leaned an elbow against the roof of the Oldsmobile.  

 

Ash hesitated for a moment. “See, there’s this magic book, the _Necronomicon_.”

 

“Don’t tell me you spoke Latin in front of it?” Buffy interrupted and sighed heavily. “I learned a long time ago to never speak Latin in front of books.  It only ends in bad.  Like really, really bad.  Like apocalyptic bad.”

 

“Wasn’t Latin, but, uh, _someone_ read from it and awoke evil.  Anyway, the long and short of it is that the deadites are dead, and these demons are playing dress up in human skin.” Ash was warming to his topic and didn’t notice the slightly panicked look that passed between Buffy and Spike.

 

“I am, I mean we are, on a mission to put right what once went wrong and shove this evil back into whatever ass-end of hell it crawled out of.”  Ash nodded to his comrades.

 

“You’re Sam Beckett then, are you mate?” Spike mumbled around the smoke gripped tightly in his lips.

 

“Who?”

 

“Nevermind, over ya head.”  Spike turned slightly toward Buffy.  “Luv, better give the Watcher the nine-one-one bout this.” Spike took a long drag on the cigarette, blowing the blue cloud up towards the night sky.

 

Buffy’s eyes lit up and looked at Ash. “Do you have this nec-o’comic-con with you?” 

 

“Keep with me at all times.” Ash reached into the trunk and pulled out a book that appeared to have a grotesquely distorted face on the cover. “Ain’t she a beaut?  Bound in human flesh and inked in blood.”

 

“Ick.” Buffy frowned at it. “Kelly, do you mind holding this for me?” Buffy whipped out her IPhone.

 

The others balked at seeing her start up the camera.

 

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Ash thundered. “I’m not risking life and my remaining limbs over this thing just so you two can steal its secrets.”

 

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Spike tossed his spent fag away, moving to glare at the other man. “She’s just going to send a few snaps to a friend of ours who’s got more experience with the occult and bloody magic books than any other twelve people you can name. The bloke can probably fix your soddin’ problem with both hands tied behind his back.”

 

“Alright then, but don’t…“ Ash held up the chainsaw and shook it like a finger at them. “…say I didn’t warn you.”

 

Following Ash’s okay, Kelly and Buffy moved to the side of the car, and the brunette held up the book.

 

“Is that an IPhone 6?” Kelly asked.

 

“It was an early birthday present to myself, I couldn’t wait to January.” Buffy took a shot of the cover and Kelly opened the book to a random page.

 

“Your boyfriend didn’t buy it for you?”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He would have made me wait till January.” She flipped to and took pictures of a few more random pages, then sent a brief e-mail to Giles, explaining things and attaching the images.

 

“That’s such a pretty scarf.” Kelly reached a hand out to touch the end of it. “Green suits you, really brings out your eyes.”  As her fingers ran over the fabric, the knot keeping it tied, already loosened from the earlier fight, slid apart and exposed the bite mark on Buffy’s neck.

 

Kelly’s gasp of shock had everyone turning to stare before Buffy had a chance to cover back up.

 

“You must not be as good of a vampire Slayer as I thought,” Ash said. “Looks like one of them got a hold of you.”

 

“ _One_ did,” Buffy’s voice was terse, trying to cut off any discussion.

 

“Better be only one.” Spike smirked at her from behind Ash as he wagged his brows at her.

 

“Wow-” Pablo came over, leaning in for a closer look. “A vampire really bit you? Does it hurt?” He tried to touch the spot and nearly ended up with a broken finger as Buffy batted his hand away.

 

“It’s fine, I heal really fast.  Part of the Slayer package.”  Buffy tried to move away, but as she walked by Ash he stepped into her path.

 

He bent over staring at the wound. “Are you sure it’s not infected? Could the vampire that bit you had rabies? They’re probably like raccoons, could be carrying all kinds of diseases…”  Not having learned from Pablo’s example, Ash started to poke at the spot on her neck with his left hand. He only got one jab in before his wrist was caught up in a crushing grip.

 

“Don’t touch her,” Spike snarled through his fangs.

 

“Holy Shit!” Ash tried to jump back but was prevented by the hand on his wrist. Everyone froze. Buffy had her eyes trained on the chainsaw. One twirl of the blade and Ash would’ve needed a wooden forearm as well as hand.

 

Her fingers tightened on the Scythe as the silence stretched on.

 

A loud guffaw from Ash finally broke the stalemate. Spike let go of the man’s wrist, and stood back, head cocked to the side in confusion. Buffy darted past Ash, who was now bent over laughing, to take her place next to Spike.

 

Wiping tears from his eyes Ash pointed first to Spike “You’re a vampire.” Then his focus shifted to Buffy. “And you’re a Vampire Slayer. And you’re together, like together, together, right?” Buffy gave a terse nod; she was still standing stiffly, primed for a fight.

 

Beside her Spike shook off his demon face as he rested a calming hand on her arm.

 

“Funniest damn thing I've ever heard of.” Ash shook his head. “Well, now that we've got that shit sorted, let’s go and kick some deadite ass!”


	4. Jingle Bell Rock

Big, fat snowflakes began their lazy descent, dusting the landscape.  The five stood in front of the diner, weapons and battle ready.  Mostly.  Buffy was still hungry, Ash needed to piss, Spike was jonesing for a nicotine hit, and Pablo wished to be anywhere else doing just about anything else. Kelly on the other hand, with her jaw set and baseball bat held high, wanted nothing more than revenge.

The sound of gravel crunching off to their left was the first sign they were no longer alone. An icy wind sliced through the night, rattling the strings of Christmas lights and making the tree branches above them sway and rustle.

Around the corner of the building slipped two deadites that slunk towards the group. One was the woman with the wooden lance protruding from her ear.  Her white eyes rolled in their sockets while her black lips pulled back from her teeth in a menacing grin. The other deadite had been a cook.   With half his body being nothing but singed hair and weeping blisters, it looked like he’d gotten fried on his own grille.

Buffy shed her coat and tossed it over to Spike. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck in preparation.  “Let me show you how it’s done.” With her Scythe held high, she advanced on the two deadites, ready for carnage.

“That’s one magnificent woman.” Ash leaned over to Spike as he watched Buffy settling into a graceful attack pose.

“You’re preaching to the choir.” Spike leaned back against the diner window, fishing a smoke out of his pocket.

“What the- are you fucking vibrating?”  Ash narrowed his eyes at the vampire.

Rolling his eyes Spike held up Buffy’s jacket. “Her bloody mobile.”

Ash shrugged, but couldn’t ignore the vibrating when it went off twice more.  Ash took it upon himself to dig into the pocket and pull out the cell, squinting at the screen. “It’s some Angel chick blowing up her phone.”

Chuckling Spike shook his head. “ ‘S not a bird, it’s her bloody ex. He gets drunk every year and starts with this shit.”

“Huh,” Ash frowned. “ ‘ _Merry Christmas’_. That’s innocent enough.  _‘I miss you’_.  Okay, that sounds like your typical drunk text.   _‘I love you and are you sure you’re not still cookie dough?’_ \- What the hell does that even mean?”

“Means the wanker is sitting in the dark feeling sorry for himself and imaging they’re still star crossed lovers. Told you, every Christmas he comes up with this claptrap.”

“Now he’s calling. Wow- is that him? That is one large forehead.”

Spike ditched his cigarette on the ground and held his hand out. “Let me.”  Ash passed him the phone, leaning in to eavesdrop as Spike answered the call.

“Buffy?” Angel’s voice sounded tinny, coming from the cell’s speaker.

Grinning, Spike dropped his voice lower than normal. “Sorry mate, ‘S me, Buffy’s busy at the moment.”

“Spike? Put Buffy on the phone, tell her it’s me.” There was a pause. “Please?”

Ash wagged his head, ‘pathetic’ he mouthed. Spike nodded, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “I said she was bloody busy,” he grunted, adding in a few deep breaths at the end for effect.

“Let me talk to her please, just for a moment,” Angel wheedled.

“For the last time, she can’t talk right now, her mouth’s busy,” Spike panted into the phone. There was a sound like a sob and the line went dead.

“Was he fucking crying?” Ash asked. The two men looked at each other, both breaking into laughter that they immediately tried to smother as Buffy was fulfilling her calling not fifty-feet away.

Buffy had dispatched the woman deadite easily, the other one was taking a little more effort.  It kept moving out of her reach, lobbing rocks and chunks of crumbling asphalt at her. Enough was enough, Buffy ripped a strand of lights off the side of the building. Wielding it like a whip, she backed the burnt deadite up against the wall, avoiding its clumsy movements.  When he was corralled, she whirled her Scythe over her head and sent the creature’s head bouncing towards a ditch.  She turned just in time to see Spike and Ash give each other a high five.

_Not.  Even.  Watching..._

Her lips pursed as she noticed her phone in Spike’s hand.  Marching over to them she snatched the cell away, even despite the ‘I’m totally innocent look’ he tried to pull off.  She so knew better. 

Wanting to get to the bottom of the stifled snickering, she scrolled through the text messages from Angel. 

“Well, at least you didn’t send him a picture of cookies this year.”   Buffy eyed Spike.

“I still can, if there’s any left in there that don’t have blood on ‘em.”

Buffy just glared. “So what are you two celebrating about?” Spike raised his eyebrows and shrugged, so she turned her scrutiny on Ash. “Tell me.”

He caved under the intensity of her glare. “This guy called, and your boyfriend here answered the phone since you were doing your thing.  Which, might I say, is very impressive.”

“Thanks, but still doesn’t change the fact…” Buffy covered her face with her hands. “Please don’t tell me Angel’s going to need therapy now?”

Spike’s smirk grew. “Probably.”

“Do they even have people who specialize in almost three-hundred-year-old vampires with a God complex?  Oh never mind, let’s just get this haunted diner thing over with, and I can worry about you acting like a two-year-old later.”

“You know you love it, kitten.” Leer firmly in place, he walked past her, trailing the fingers of one hand along her shoulder and over the nape of her neck. The flick of one nail against his bite mark had her trembling, Angel instantly forgotten.

“Make googly eyes at each other later, kill things now,” Kelly growled from where she stood, holding open the diner door.

The four others marched past Kelly and once inside the restaurant, all five fanned out, weapons at the ready.  Nothing stirred. The jukebox was still stuck on repeat of _‘Jingle Bell Rock’_ at stadium rock show volume. 

“Enough of that shit.” Ash pulled out his shotgun and blasted a hole through the jukebox. The machine stuttered to a stop. The deafening echo of the shot made everyone wince and muffled the thud of the double doors to the kitchen swinging wide.  Five deadites spilled out from the opening. One, a man dressed in kitchen gear with holes burned in his shirt and his neck at an impossible angle, jumped onto the counter, hissing at Buffy. He clutched a sledge hammer in his hands. 

A second one, dried soup coating is face, gurgled a laugh as it eyed the pistol Pablo was shakily aiming at it. “You can’t defeat us, we will keep coming, we are –“

“Yeah, yeah,” Ash interrupted, revving his chainsaw. “Heard it all before, blah blah blah!”  Ash turned to the others.  “Let’s kick a little deadite ass!”

With a howl the creatures attacked simultaneously.  Buffy dodged as the one facing her brought the sledge down in a crushing blow that cracked the title. As she rolled back to her feet the jukebox rumbled, then blared back to life.   _‘Last Christmas’_ flooded the diner.

“Wham? I don’t think I can do Wham,” Spike grunted, spinning and cleanly slicing his sword through the cervical spine of what had once been a middle aged woman in a horrendous sweater decorated with kittens wearing Santa hats. The holiday effect had been somewhat spoiled by the loop of her own guts that’d been casually tossed around her neck like a scarf.

As the two pieces of the corpse hit the floor the jukebox obligingly changed to _‘Carol of the Bells’._ Spike shrugged one shoulder. “Better.” He turned to help Buffy, only to watch a strand of gold tinsel detach itself from the back of a booth and rise up before him, waving hypnotically as a cobra.

Pablo grabbed the greasy pony tail of a deadite that’d managed to bowl Kelly over.  “Do you think it takes requests?” He fired his pistol point blank into the thing’s temple. It slumped away from Kelly, and she jumped back to her feet, quickly smashing her bat into its head until there was nothing but pulp.

“What’s that one that’s super dramatic? They play it on the radio all the time.” She wiped the gore stuck to the weapon on the deadite’s now still back.

“Oh, I know the one you mean.” Buffy dodged another attack by the hammer. She swung the Scythe in a graceful arch, loping off her attacker’s arm. It gripped the sledge with the other hand without pausing, continuing to aim for her. “I like that one.  Do you remember what it’s called Spike?”

“Busy, Slayer,” he grunted, trying to pull his sword out of the loop of tinsel that had wrapped itself around the blade. He braced both feet on the back of the booth, yanking with his full strength. “I think,” he said, the veins standing out on his neck as he pulled. “That you mean the one by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.”  Buffy had seen her vampire’s predicament, and she vaulted onto the table next to the seat he was using for leverage. With a grunt she brought her blade down, severing the tinsel and dropping him to the floor.   Sensing Bang-bang-Maxwell behind her, she jumped away just before the sledge hammer splintered the table she’d been just standing on.

The jukebox rumbled as it changed songs, the opening strains of _Christmas/Sarajevo 12/24_ winding its way from the speakers.   Buffy watched as around the room other strands of old and red tinsel had started slithering from where it’d been taped.

With a yell Ash grabbed the deadite that’d been pelting him with purloined glassware and abandoned dishes full of congealed food.  Snarling he rammed his chainsaw into the thing’s chest, going through and then upwards. The creature screamed as the gore flew.  At Ash’s back there was a rush of cold air.

“So do you think it’s really the world’s best pie?” Asked a scratchy voice.

“Don’t know Bob, the last place didn’t have the world’s best coffee, no matter what the sign…” the second voice trailed off.

 Around the diner the combats all turned towards the door.  Two guys with bushy beards and dressed for cold weather motorcycle riding, stood stunned in the restaurant’s entry way.

“Holy shit!” Bob said.

Ash finished bisecting the deadite’s head and stood up. “You two might want to leave, before anything goes pear shaped.” The two bikers stared at him, unblinking. “Well, anything else.” He amended.

The second guy started to back out the door, but Bob wasn’t so lucky. A strip of red tinsel above the door dropped down behind him, and when he turned to flee, it struck.  A loop wrapped around his neck, squeezing. His friend fled, the engine of his bike coughing to life in the parking lot.  Ash grabbed for Bob’s hand, but was too late. The tinsel picked the biker up, shook him, and threw him into the Christmas tree.  

Freed of the choking strand, Bob screamed. Limbs on the tree creaked and snapped as they snaked around the man’s wrists and ankles. The scream died in a spray of blood as a branch plunged through the biker’s back and out his chest.  Now a grotesque parody of an ornament, the heart of the tip of the pine branch gave one final, futile beat.  Lights strands and tinsel crept around the body’s chest and waist to keep it in place. Almost gently the top of the tree passed the star from its top branch downwards, then rammed it into place in the dead man’s head, the lights still twinkling brightly.

“Right,” Spike drawled. “I think I have an idea. You guys take out these last two.” He sprinted for outside.

The battle resumed.  Ash threw a pie server at the back of the deadite with a sledge, impaling it. The creature turned to growl at him, buying Buffy all the time she needed to swing the Scythe in a wide arc and decapitate it. The head rolled past were Kelly and Pablo were struggling to unwrap tinsel from around their legs. 

The remaining deadite, the business man with the glass splitting his grin, retreated into the kitchen.

Buffy swatted at the tinsel above the door, making it recoil as Spike came back with the gas tank he’d ripped off Bob’s bike. It was painted with an American flag and bald eagle which was currently upside down as he laid a trail of fuel from the door to the front of the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign. He dropped the tank and jerked his head towards the door. “Time to go kiddies. Bout to get a tad toasty in here.”

“Could use some help here!” Pablo called. The tinsel had wormed it’s way up past his and Kelly’s legs, tying them together and immobilizing the pair. Kelly lurched towards the door, sending them both tumbling to the linoleum. Buffy and Ash made hurried strides over to them as the tinsel was wiggling around, heading for vulnerable their necks and faces. The chainsaw buzzed to life again, severing the sparkly trimming. The shortened pieces writhed and slapped the floor as they withdrew.

Buffy hauled the pair, still trapped in the once more inanimate tinsel, over her shoulder and headed out into the cold. The length over the door made an effort to hook her as she darted past, but Ash was right behind her and forced it back with the business end of his shotgun.

Once outside, Buffy dropped Pablo and Kelly into the snow before turning to look back at the restaurant.  Next to her Spike was tapping out a cigarette from the now squashed pack he’d had in his pocket.

“T’was the night before Christmas . . .” He said, lodging the filter between his lips and bringing up his zippo to light it.


	5. And To All A Goodnight

“And all through the house…“ Buffy continued, a grin tilting up the corners of her mouth.

 

“There was a bloody big fire.” With a flick of his wrist Spike sent his lit cigarette spinning end over end towards the puddle of gas which instantly ignited into a muffled _woosh_ of orange flames. Quickly, the blaze followed the carefully laid petrol path into the diner and once it hit the improvised bomb of Bob’s patriotic gas tank, exploded and engulfed the dining room in flames.

 

“It’s a beautiful thing,” Ash said wiping a mock tear out of the corner of his eye. “Makes me wish I had some chestnuts to roast.”

 

“Those really aren’t that good.” Pablo was dusting snow off of himself, having finally gotten untangled from the remains of the tinsel. He helped pull Kelly to her feet, the brunette crossing her arms as she turned towards the rapidly growing inferno.

 

“Oh God!”  As one of Kelly’s hands flew to her mouth, the other rose and shakily pointed towards the restaurant.  Inside, the last deadite, Glass Face, was rushing towards the front doors.  Flames were licking at its body and consuming its hair, the orange glow reflected off the glass shard wedged lips that were rapidly peeling away into blackened cinders.  When it reached the door the monster held out its  blackened, fleshless arm out towards them with one finger pointing straight at Ash.

 

Buffy lifted her Scythe, ready for the creature. Palms sweating, she had just secured her grip when a second, much bigger explosion rocked the diner. The windows busted in a shower of glass and Christmas lights popped like fireworks. Glass Face disappeared in the explosion which knocked everyone outside off their feet.   

 

Spike was the first to recover, and after a quick glance to make sure the deadite was gone, he helped Buffy to her feet.

 

“ I’m thinkin’ that goose is well beyond cooked, pet. Time to clear out before whatever podunk Barney Fife  shows up and spoils our fun with a night in the slammer.”

 

One by one, Ash and his friends made it back to their feet as well, and moved to cluster around the back of Ash’s  Oldsmobile. The car was slightly worse for wear, having lost its windshield in the explosion, and though she’d never admit it, Buffy was glad Spike was so adamant about parking the Mustang miles away from wherever they were heading.  The others were facing a long, cold drive ahead.

 

Turning back to Spike she laid a hand on his chest, and pulled her phone out with the other to check the time. “It’s past midnight!” She squealed, “Time for prezzies!”

 

“So you’re assuming you’re getting any prezzies?  You know what they saying about assuming…plus, I have it on good authority you’ve been a very naughty girl this year.” He leered at her while she pouted.  As her lip worked its way further out he relented. “Well, I might have got you something.”

 

“Yes!” Buffy bounced on her toes, eyes bright. “Me first, me first” Buffy pulled from her pocket  a small gold box with a tiny silver bow on the top.  Suddenly shy, she blushed as she handed it to him. “I know how upset you were when you lost it, so while it’s not the original I hope it still has the same meaning.”

 

Intrigued, Spike opened the box to find a skull ring matching the one he’d given Buffy as an engagement ring all those years ago under Willow’s spell.   It’s been months since she noticed it was missing and when she asked him about it, she got a glare and a one-line answer about a brutal sewer fight and  some kind of squid demon.  She was feeling particularly generous that day and offered to help him find it.  But after he went on about the demon squirting ink and all those wriggly tentacles,  they’d both agreed it was better left gone.   

 

Spike gave her a heartwarming smile.  “It’s perfect, luv.” He slipped it on his finger. “I’ll have to make sure this stays put.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “Now it’s my turn,” he whispered against her lips.

 

**

 

Taking a step back, Spike took a deep breath. He was nervous. While at this point he was nearly a hundred percent sure of her answer, part of him would always deeply fear rejection from someone he loved. Hands shaking slightly, he reached into the inside pocket of his duster.   Reaching his prize, he slowly drew the box out, his eyes remaining fixed on Buffy.  Who also appeared to be trembling in anticipation.   She was covered in blood, her was hair tangled, and soot from the fire was raining down around her- and she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

 

Taking her hand in his, Spike  sank down to one knee.  “I know we’ve put the cart before the horse here, what with the claim and all, but sod it I want you to have the big wedding you never let yourself even dream of as a Slayer.” He paused, gulping a deep breath. Buffy’s free hand had covered her mouth while tears coursed uncheck down her cheeks. He hoped they were happy tears. He flipped open the box to display the diamond ring nestled inside it.

 

“Buffy, will you marry me?”

 

She squealed and launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

 

“That’s a yes then?”   Spike beamed from ear to ear.  Buffy pulled back just enough to pepper  his earnest face with kisses, “Of course it’s a yes, you dolt!” 

 

There was a round of cheering and applause from their three-person audience as Spike stood and pulled her gently into a proper kiss.   When they broke apart, her for the need of air, him because he was nearly at the point of taking her right there, he watched Buffy admiring the newest addition to her left hand. 

 

“Wait,” she whispered, holding it up for a better look. The diamond was large, with three green stones clustered around it, and the band of thick metal. “Is this?” He nodded sheepishly.  “You let me think you lost it! I cried for days, you jerk!”

 

Spike looked embarrassed. “Wanted to keep it a surprise,” he mumbled. He picked her hand up and rubbed his thumb over the ring, “Also wanted to fix it up a bit, yeah? Make it worthy of you.”  Buffy softened, leaning back against him.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, turning her hand this way and that so the diamond caught the light from the burning building. It meant more to her than she could say that her new engagement ring was fashioned from the old skull ring she thought that was lost.    

 

It was then when Buffy’s phone chose that moment to  interrupt.  The shrilling ring blared from inside her pocket. 

 

“That's Giles!” She hurriedly answered the phone, mumbled yes a couple times, then put her hand over the microphone. “Ash, he wants to speak to you.”

 

Buffy handed the phone off, returning to snuggling against her fiancé’s chest.

 

Ash looked at Buffy oddly before shrugging his shoulder and taking the phone.  Ash hesitantly said, “Hello.” as he walked away from the group.  Soon, Ash was animatedly talking  into the phone.  Spike heard they were making plans and once that was done, Ash ended the call and headed back  towards the group.

 

“So!  I Guess we’re going to Cleveland!” He said, clapping Pablo on the shoulder. “The Slayer and her sidekick get to be our escorts for this little jaunt to the Buckeye State.”

 

“Goody,” Buffy groaned, while Spike grumbled something under his breath about ‘sidekick’ and ‘dismemberment.’

 

Buffy’s phone started ringing again in Ash’s hand, and he looked at the screen and rolled his eyes. “It’s that Angel dipshit calling again, you want me to tell him to fuck off?”

 

“No,” Spike growled. “Let me tell the sod right where he can stick his bloody cookies.”

 

“Boys--“ Buffy snatched the cell out of Ash’s grip—“it’s my phone. I can handle this.”

 

Spike glowered at her, but she gave him a wink and a grin as she answered the call and put Angel on speaker phone.   

 

“Buffy?” Angel sounded cautious.

 

She responded in a breathy voice: “Yes, Angel?”

 

There was the sound of leather creaking and springs squeaking as he leaned forward in a chair. “Merry Christmas,” he said gruffly, “it’s been so long since you've been to LA, I've been-“

 

“Is this an emergency?” She asked softly with a slight moan.

 

“Uh, no-“

 

“I'll call you back later then, “ Buffy dropped her hand so the phone was down by her side. She moaned low in her throat, then let her head fall back, keening, “Oh god, yes! Yes! Spike!”  

 

Then there was a hiccupping whimper, and possibly weeping,from Angel before the call cut off.

 

“Who’s the boss?” Buffy held up her palm and Ash gave her a left handed high five.

 

“Are you sure you two aren’t evil?” He asked.

 

“Nah, that bloke wouldn’t have it any other way. Likes his misery, that one does.”  Spike reached out, rested a hand on the side of Buffy’s neck. “We really should tell him, pet. Put him right out of one misery and into another.”

 

Her mouth turned up in a malicious grin, her hand covering his. “He’ll figure it out when I walk down the aisle.”

 

“Yeah, well, if Angel has it his way,  you might be back to honeymooning as Mrs. Big-Pile-of-Dust.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but she continued to give him a big smile. “Ok, I admit flashing him the claim mark with you in a pretty white dress does have its appeal.”  He waited a moment, then the rest came out as a whine:  “Do we really have to invite him?”

 

“Yes, now hush.” She tugged him towards her, only to be interrupted by Ash shouldering between them.

 

“Watch out!” He yelled, raising his shotgun.

 

The last deadite was still struggling to drag it’s chared remains through the flames of the nearly gutted building. It was tugging itself hand over hand, fingertips like claws as it pulled itself into the parking lot towards them.

 

Ash pulled the trigger and the skull of the thing disintegrated. “See, told ya, guns are useful.” He patted the vampire and Slayer on the back, then slung an arm around each of their shoulders.

 

“Y’know,” Ash said with a grin. “Good food, family, friends, a big pile of corpses. It’s really the true meaning of Christmas.”  He gave them a squeeze, ignoring their sidelong looks of consternation.

 

Buffy and Spike joined hands behind his back as Ash continued.

 

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good fucking night!”


End file.
